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<title>Colors of My Legacy by sunlight-and-storms (all_i_see_is_sky)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26069437">Colors of My Legacy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_i_see_is_sky/pseuds/sunlight-and-storms'>sunlight-and-storms (all_i_see_is_sky)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Period Drama AU, feat. Aroace!Sophie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:28:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,149</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26069437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_i_see_is_sky/pseuds/sunlight-and-storms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>But he’s not here to be disruptive. He’s here to support his best friend as Fitz meets his future wife. Here to support Fitz, and smile, and dance, and attempt not to die inside.</p>
<p>That last one is going to fail, but he can try for the others. </p>
<p>(AKA Keefitz Period Drama AU.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keefe Sencen/Fitz Vacker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Colors of My Legacy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyUncreativeUserSorry/gifts">MyUncreativeUserSorry</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>ahh this was so much fun to write! A thousand thanks to my friend for the prompt. </p>
<p>Fair warning, though: my playlist for this fic consisted of Perfect, Satisfied, and the entire soundtrack to the musical Starry.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The jacket is deep red, crushed velvet with curling gold swirls along the cuffs. It’s elegantly simple, the embroidered crest over the heart making it clear to the world that he’s a Sencen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keefe wants to rip the entire garment to shreds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wouldn’t be hard- the fabric is soft and thin, easy to tear. Keefe could just rip it in half and be done here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>would make quite a scene, though, and he’s not here to be disruptive. He’s here to support his best friend as Fitz meets his future wife. Here to support Fitz, and smile, and dance, and try not to die inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That last one is going to fail, but he can try for the others. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, Keefe slides the jacket on and picks a piece of paper off of his desk. It’s heavy sketching paper, the kind reserved for the nobility; far too expensive for anyone else. He’s spent hours drawing and redrawing this scene, painstakingly inking it with the paints he annoyed his father into buying. He thinks, when he gives it away, a tiny bit of his heart will go with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Although, he doesn’t have much of his heart left anyway. It’s almost gone, shattered over and over until the pieces were too small to put back together. Too small to recognize. Too small to look like anything other than shimmering, lovely sand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, Keefe wonders why he even keeps going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you ready?” His father calls through the heavy wooden door. Keefe smooths down his hair and moves into the hallway. Cassius gives him an annoyed look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re nearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>late,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he snaps. “Honestly. Do you care about your friend at all?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keefe doesn’t respond. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t do anything but move forward, one foot after the other, towards their carriage waiting below the front steps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He steps inside and stares out the window as they start moving. </span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you ever think about what happens when we die?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fitz laughs, a sound strangely reminiscent of the golden afternoon light streaming through the trees. He pulls one leg up to his chest and rests his chin on it, smiling at Keefe.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No. Why would I?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t know. It just seems like- it’s the great mystery of life, you know? No one knows where we go. Is there an afterlife? Are we reborn? Or do our souls just… disappear?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“The way I see it,” Fitz says slowly, “We only have one life to live the way we are now. Even if we are reborn, we’ll never be </span>
  </em>
  <span>here,</span>
  <em>
    <span> as these people, again.” He tilts his head, smiling softly, and an indescribable warmth surrounds Keefe. “This is the only life we have as Fitz and Keefe. Why would we waste it deliberating about things we’ll never understand?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Keefe raises an eyebrow, trying to fend off the emotions rising in his gut. “That was deep. Have you been reading poetry again?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fitz snorts, hitting him across the head. “You asked, jerk.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Keefe jumps up off the grass. “We should get back to the house. It’s almost dinnertime.” He pulls Fitz to his feet, and the other boy takes off towards his manor. Keefe watches him, a tiny grin pulling at the edges of his mouth. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If this is the only life he has with Fitz, he’s going to make it count. </span>
  </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>The Vacker manor seems to glow, the delicate candles and lanterns everywhere casting shifting light over the open-air ballroom. Della spots them as soon as they walk in the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, good, there you are,” she says to Keefe. “Come with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ushers him upstairs and into the familiar silver-and-blue trappings of Fitz’s room. The boy in question is sitting in a chair in front of his mirror, tapping his fingers nervously against the tabletop. Della pats Keefe’s back and exits the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Keefe says, drawing up a chair. Fitz glances up. “How’re you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s going to hate me,” Fitz mumbles. Keefe blinks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No way. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fitz Vacker, </span>
  </em>
  <span>remember? No one hates you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s going to.” Fitz tugs at his hair, mussing it slightly. Keefe grabs his hands and drags them back down to his lap before letting go. “She’s going to hate me and I won’t be able to do anything about it because we’ll be </span>
  <em>
    <span>married </span>
  </em>
  <span>and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you think she’s going to hate you?” Keefe asks. Knowing Fitz, it’s probably something stupid like </span>
  <em>
    <span>because I don’t eat toast </span>
  </em>
  <span>that’ll disappear as soon as Keefe points out how dumb it is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” Fitz clenches his hands, knuckles turning white against the polished wood of the table. “Because I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoa, hey, are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, I just. I can’t- I’m not- I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fitz. Look at me.” Teal eyes meet ice blue and Fitz’s face regains some of its color. “You’re here. You’re okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fitz takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t do this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can.” Keefe reaches out, and Fitz takes his hand. Keefe pushes down the butterflies that rise in his stomach and continues. “You’re nervous, and that’s okay, but you’ll be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I can’t do this. I can’t marry her.” Fitz’s tone is getting increasingly urgent. “Keefe, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door creaks open and Fitz’s sister sticks her head into the room. “Sophie Foster is here,” she reports. “You should come downstairs.”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Biana’s lucky.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Keefe laughs, setting his book aside and raising an eyebrow at the other boy. He’s supposed to be studying right now- that’s the only way his father allowed him over to Fitz’s house- but he can put it off for a little while. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“How so? She’s not even allowed to ride horses by herself.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, yeah,” Fitz says, leaning his head over the edge of the bed, “which is still stupid, by the way, but at least she likes Dex.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh.” Keefe knows what this is about. Fitz’s dad just announced that Biana and her best friend, Dex, are going to get married in a few years. Biana didn’t seem to care, honestly; “I like Dex,” she had said. “I can learn to love him. This is as good as it’s going to get.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Keefe doesn’t understand why Fitz is so upset, and he says as much. The thirteen-year-old sighs, flipping over to look at Keefe seriously. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“If Bi’s marriage is already getting arranged, what about mine? When is Father going to find me a ‘suitable girl’ to marry? What if I don’t like her?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Keefe blinks. “I don’t know.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I just-” Fitz waves his hands in the air- “I wish I could at least choose, you know? Biana got to marry her best friend.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What, you want to marry me?” Keefe snorts, and Fitz’s cheeks darken. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, you idiot. I’m just saying, it’d be nice to marry someone I knew and liked.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You liiike me,” Keefe sing-songs, flopping on the bed next to Fitz. The boy snorts, reaching up to push his hair out of his face. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I guess so,” he teases. “When you’re not too annoying.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And Keefe stares at him, so close, so beautiful, so </span>
  </em>
  <span>Fitz, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and he thinks, oh. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>Sophie Foster is pretty, Keefe supposes. Tall, blonde, shy smile. And her family is rich, which he suspects is more of the reason Alden wants Fitz to marry her; the Ruewens have connections to some of the highest members of the nobility, connections that could seriously benefit the Vackers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, she seems nice. Fitz compliments her necklace and she plunges into a story that appears to involve a horse named Silveny, brown eyes bright and excited. Quietly, Keefe slips away into the party. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His father finds him almost immediately, handing him a small cup of something both watered-down and unbearably strong. Keefe takes one sip and forces himself to swallow it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Heks family is here,” Cassius says. “I hear their daughter is just about your age. Why don’t you make your way over there and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going to marry her,” Keefe says firmly. “I’m not going to marry any girl.” His father doesn’t seem surprised- they’ve both known, for a very long time, that Keefe wasn’t arranged marriage material. This is the first time either of them has said it out loud, though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cassius heaves a long, put-upon sigh. “You can never make it easy, can you.” He tips his head back and drinks the rest of his beer, giving Keefe a glare that edges dangerously close to ‘murderous’ territory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look. I’m not going to force you to do anything. Goodness only knows what a disaster </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>would be. As far as I’m concerned, you can live the rest of your life as a lonely bachelor.” He narrows his eyes, clapping Keefe on the back. “Just don’t do anything… </span>
  <em>
    <span>unsanitary, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and we’ll be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, he sweeps off, presumably to go annoy someone else. Keefe exhales, his knees feeling weak. Quickly, he ducks out of the manor and into the intricate gardens that surround the property. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Being outside helps, clear night air filling his lungs. He sinks down onto a bench, halfway obscured by a bush. An ornate fountain burbles a few feet away, water spilling down and into the basin. The sound is calming. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least, until two familiar figures move into the garden. Keefe freezes, but they don’t see him, instead settling on the edge of the fountain. In the dim light, he can see Sophie give one of her eyelashes a tug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, uh,” she starts. “You’re really nice. I’m glad I met you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too,” Fitz agrees. Sophie nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And, I mean, getting married to you wouldn’t be so terrible. You’re pretty cool. But, um-” Sophie takes a deep breath, as if steeling herself for something- “I don’t want. Like. Kissing, or anything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, thank goodness.” Fitz visibly sags. “Neither do I, oh my God. Not that you’re like, ugly or anything-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure you’re perfectly attractive-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just not, like attracted to you-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” They smile at each other, laughing a little. “I guess we’re on the same page, then,” Fitz says. “Although, uh, is it just because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Sophie shakes her head. “I’m not really… I don’t know. I don’t feel attracted to people. In any way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh,” Fitz says. “Cool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sophie laughs, standing up. “I’m going to go back inside,” she responds. “You coming?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll stay here for a minute.” Sophie nods and moves back inside, and Fitz leans back on his hands, staring up at the sky. Carefully, Keefe moves off his bench and over to the fountain in the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m just out for a stroll and totally wasn’t spying on you and your future wife </span>
  </em>
  <span>manner he can manage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” he says, sitting down next to Fitz. The other boy’s head snaps up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” he replies. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keefe gives a nonchalant shrug. “Wanted some fresh air. And I had to give you this, anyway.” From his pocket, he withdraws the folded paper and hands it to his friend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fitz unfolds it, letting out a small gasp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The drawing is a burst of color, oranges and reds and golds shimmering in the light. Trees and leaves are perfectly rendered, surrounding two boys in the center of the painting. They’re turned toward each other, laughing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a moment stilled in time, a place that Keefe would gladly stay in forever. Fitz traces the lines gently, face unreadable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not very good,” Keefe says quietly. Fitz turns to look at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Teal eyes meet ice blue, and Keefe can’t stop himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He barely has to lean down before their lips meet. </span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>To the outside world, here’s how it goes:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fitz and Sophie Vacker, high-ranking power couple, are married. They have no children, but their huge manor is always full of parties, laughter, and light. Fitz’s best friend and incorrigible bachelor, Keefe Sencen, lives with them, and he and Fitz have weeklong hunting trips once a month. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>To those who know them, the story is far more complicated.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sophie Foster never wanted to get married, and she still barely considers herself a wife. “It’s convenience,” she’ll say. “I love him, but not like that.” She’s perfectly happy with her horse and her cat, riding through the woods at night. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fitz Vacker, technically, has a wife, but he chooses to ignore that. “We’re not married, not really,” he’ll explain. “I love one person, and that’s Keefe.” A framed painting hangs above his bed, oranges and reds and golds making the room cozy. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Keefe Sencen has everything he’s ever wanted, with the additional fact that he is, publicly, single. “And thank goodness for that,” he’ll laugh. “All this marriage stuff seems ridiculous to me. I’m spending the rest of my life with him, who cares if it’s legal or not?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And he’ll reach out a hand to Fitz, and the two will smile. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments are love!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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